Hope
by Shada Bay
Summary: The time of the Eldar draws to a close in Middle-earth. Those who still remain in are torn between the passage to the Blessed Realm and their love for Endor.


**Authoress' Note:** The words in quotes ' ' are from the dialogue in The Two Towers. (In other words, I am not attempting to pass them off as mine.) In addition, all characters, places, and events mentioned belong solely to the Great Master, Tolkien. I will be mentioning things from The Silmarillion, a brief reference to The Hobbit, and of course Lord of the Rings, so this fic may be confusing if you have not read them. If you have any questions or comments concerning my writing, you are welcome to send me a review!  
  
That being said, I hope you enjoy reading this!  
  
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'There is still hope...'  
  
Yet truly is there still hope? For the race of Elves is departing, their presence disappearing in Middle-earth. I would gladly suffer the pain of a thousand ages if only they were to return from Valinor and seek haven here again.  
  
For the Eldar are the bright sunshine on midmorn; they are the chill frost on the tips of the grass; they are the sigh of the wind and the whisper of the stream; they are the fell voice of an avalanche of whiteness that covers the peaks of Caradhras.  
  
I cannot live without hearing their voices… the music of the Quendi is the most beautiful sound in Arda. A lament was never sung more beautifully, and more filled with grief, than that of the Eldar. And when the Eldar speak, it is as if the very words are imbued with a melody, and when one listens in passing he is captivated by the strange song and struck speechless.  
  
But their voices are fading, and I strain to hear their calls, so far away now...  
  
Why then did they leave, when their presence was the soul of Middle-earth? It is said that in days long gone the mere laugh of an Elf could make the clouds part for a glimpse of the sun.  
  
But, alas! for I can no longer see the Elves. My heart aches to see Caras Galadhon again filled with merriment; now it is bleak, deserted. The Elven-home in Eryn Lasgalen is all but desolate and empty. Its Elvenking is departed, its halls silent. The darkness in the forest whispers to me, its gloom and loneliness another of the dull echoes of despair.  
  
  
Ha! time! Of what importance is time? The Eldar care little for time, only knowing that many things wither and die after they have seen many years of the sun, and this sorrows them deeply. I would gladly have but a moment more of the full splendour of Imladris, which is now diminished greatly, if it could only be brought again to Middle-earth.  
  
  
  
  
  
'It is in Men that we must place our faith.'  
  
Alas that I cannot see this! Men are but a short-lived and greedy race; and there are but few noble and wise men: among them is Aragorn Elessar, heir to the throne of Gondor. He did all he could to restore to Gondor the glory of the past, but I fear it has not been enough.  
  
And what _hope_ can the race of Men have when they were born in an age in which Melkor was allowed to roam the world? Corrupted by his fell plots and twisted to his will, Men are weak and greedy. The fault is not theirs, but their fate is never clear, nor is it kind. Indeed Túrin son of Húrin despite his bravest efforts could not shake off the curse that Morgoth put upon his family.  
  
  
  
  
  
'My people are leaving these shores...'  
  
Shores... O, I remember now the ocean! That I had never seen it! Its call haunts my every dream; the cries of the sea-birds pierce my ears as they grow ever more painful. I cannot think but for the gentle sound of the waves.  
  
I remember the day that Lady Galadriel set sail for Valinor in her swan-ship. Her gaze had become anguished and longing as she stared across the sea to the horizon. The sky was set in fiery hues of red and orange; indeed, I remember that day well. It was the day all hope left my heart, for I knew that after the Lady of the Forest, the keeper of the Ring of Adamant, left, the rest of the Eldar would soon forever depart from Middle-earth.  
  
And what of me? what shall I do? whither shall I go? Must I remain in this world, doomed to wander forgotten shores with my broken heart?  
  
Or shall I follow them to Valinor?  
  
Tell me, I beg of thee, for I cannot remain alone in this place. The trees comfort me, but the cry of the sea pierces my heart and I am loath to stay, though I would not go.  
  
  
  
Perhaps someday we will be sung of by Men, our tales carried on through the ages. Or perhaps the noble race of Elves will be forgotten forever, an history preserved in an ancient tome at the bottom of the Sea. Now the world seemeth old and grey.  
  
But when thou hearest the rustle of fall leaves, or the roar of a waterfall, or glimpse the first shoots of _niphredil_ emerging beneath a young oak, remember me, Legolas of the Great Greenwood. Forget not the Eldar, a high and noble race.  
  
Aiya! Namárië!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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A few translations/explanations, which may or may not have been needed:  
  
Eldar, Quendi = Elves  
Caras Galadhon = 'capital' of Lothlórien  
Eryn Lasgalen, The Great Greenwood = Mirkwood; Elvenking = Thranduil  
Imladris = Rivendell  
Melkor = a former Vala, previously the evil overlord of Sauron 


End file.
